


eyes of the storm

by axbird



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Apex Legends Quest: The Broken Ghost, Bloodhound being Bloodhound, Bloodhound-centric (Apex Legends), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Kings Canyon (Apex Legends), Kings Canyon After Dark, Respawn gave us Bloodhound content but it wasn't enough so here we are, Revenant Being Revenant (Apex Legends), Team as Family, Wattson seeing/treating Caustic as her dad, Work In Progress, mentions of Caustic and Revenant, specifically parental trauma, the headcanons are showing, this is also lightly borrowing headcanons I've adopted from other people, trauma mentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axbird/pseuds/axbird
Summary: Wattson comes to Bloodhound with an unexpected, sentimental request, and Bloodhound obliges
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [to dust](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/671740) by vbabylon. 



> first time posting here, there may be errors with formatting  
> will attempt to update somewhat frequently

It’s been days since the living quarters were this quiet. Even through the doors and hallways, the entire complex seemed to chatter for the last several days. Preparations for the Games, especially the first exhibition match of the event, were always a hectic affair - scheduling and timing changes always seemed to fall at random, the development of personalities and their theatrics always caused some kind of stir, and this all on top of the underlying general frequency of twelve people in the same complex. It was overwhelming at times. This evening, however, the halls were relatively calm. It was a welcome reprieve from the commotion of the days prior. Since all the Legends had arrived, the proverbial cards had been dealt. Squads had been selected, strategies and rivalries formed, and the qualifier and preliminary events had come and gone. Now, it was simply the buildup to the Apex Games at the end of the cycle. Time for final preparations was looming, and the general atmosphere reflected this. It was an uncomfortably tense atmosphere, and required a surprising amount of willpower to break. Natalie “Wattson” Paquette had barely any time to feel as though she’d mustered that willpower before she found herself knocking at the door of one of the domiciles.

A moment of heavy stillness passed before the lock clicked and the door opened, and the Apex Games’ most enigmatic and esteemed hunter appeared at the other side. In typical fashion, their eyes were obscured by large pilot’s goggles, and a light-duty rebreather hid their mouth and nose. Everything else, though, was new to even Natalie. The tracker had foregone their typical coat and armor plates for an oversized shawl that obscured nearly all of their figure, only occasionally offering glimpses of their arms, peppered with inkings in a language nearly lost to time. Their helmet and cap were missing as well. Their thick, tousled hair was held back with all manners of braids and baubles, but still found a way to fall gently to one side of their head.  


“Ah, _halló_ Natalie,” Bloodhound greeted, a twinge of surprise in their voice. At this hour, the hunter would have expected the likes of Octavio, likely with Ajay not far behind. Yet, here stood Wattson, her light blue eyes glinting even in the low light.  


“Hello, Bloodhound! How are you?” Natalie chimed back.  


“I am well, thank you. Yourself?” Bloodhound asked.  


“I’m.. doing well!” Wattson replied. The hunter's eyes narrowed behind their goggles as they picked up on a trace of hesitation in her reply. A loud, coarse caw rang out from within the room. Wattson peeked around Bloodhound as they turned to look into the room.  


“Artur is _happ_ to see you as well,” Bloodhound chuckled, gesturing to the raven perched in a large wire cage. “Please, come in. You are always _velkomin_ here.” Wattson smiled and gave a small nod and stepped in the door. A peaceful quietude washed over Wattson as she entered. The entire room was bathed in a warm, gently swaying light from clusters of candles seemingly growing from the tabletops. A faint aroma of dried herbs and warm, sweet spices hung in the air. The room was decorated - or littered, depending on who was describing it - with parchment scrolls, various crafting projects and materials, and a wealth of flora, and trophies of fauna, a handful of which were familiar to Natalie. Though it was clearly stated in multiple places that no weapons of any kind were permitted in the living quarters, mounting surfaces supporting various hunting apparati dotted the walls. Some were adorned with runes from a language known by few, and spoken by fewer. She imagined that the space felt akin to a sort of temple. As her eyes traveled the room, they eventually arrived back at the great black raven that had seemingly prompted her to step inside, who chirred quietly in her direction. Bloodhound reached into the cage and gently smoothed a single out-of-place feather on Artur’s neck.  


“What brings you, _félagi?_ ” Bloodhound inquired, looking back to Natalie as she drifted through the room. Her eyes traveled across one of the tabletops, falling to a small grindstone as she answered.  


“I, eh, have a small favor to ask..” She started, her voice trailing off for a moment. “Do you remember the pendant you gave me? The little silver one?”  


Bloodhound nodded slowly. “Ah, yes. Fashioned from a _málmur_ horn. I remember.”  


“I wore it into the arena for the exhibition match earlier today, and I couldn’t find it anywhere when I came back. I think it may still be there, and I want to go and look before the next match, and I would really like your help.” Wattson briefly glanced to Bloodhound’s face. Though she couldn’t see their eyes, she could feel their attentive gaze on her. A flash of doubt took her- maybe she should have gone to doctor Caustic instead. But it was too late, she was already here. Besides, doctor Caustic may not have been the most receptive to the sentiment of her request. Bloodhound, behind their goggles, watched as her eyes flitted around the room. They could see the anxiety, and a twinge of embarrassment in them. After a moment, their head tilted slightly, and they seemed to hover away from Artur’s cage, their shawl swaying gently behind them.  


“Hmm,” They hummed, “a nighttime hunt for an elusive prize. An interesting test. One I would be _happ_ to take on with you.” Wattson’s eyes brightened as she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.  


“Thank you, Bloodhound! I promise I won’t let you down.”  


“You are graced in your gratitude, _félagi_ Natalie. I suggest you ready yourself, and I will do the same. We will meet near the dropship hangar when you are prepared. I have a plan for our entry.”  


“Thank you! I will. I’ll be there as quick as I can!” Wattson said, making for the door and disappearing into the darkened hallway. As the door closed, the light from the candles danced and flickered for a brief moment. As it steadied, Bloodhound quietly turned and retrieved their axe from its stand. As _Hrafnsbíta_ met their weathered hands, scarlet glowed through the eyes of the raven’s head embossed in the rear of the axehead.  


“A secret miðnætti hunt, alongside an eager _unglingur_ in search of an elusive, sentimental prize…” Bloodhound murmured. “Artur, _leiðbeina mér.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this was originally part of chapter 1 but I thought it worked better as its own chapter
> 
> also rip to “gonna update this somewhat frequently” but I do have a new chapter in the works, gonna try and post it by the end of the month

“Alright, bruddahs, we’re comin’ in on your dropzone. Get ready, cause I gotta jet after you two drop in.” Gibraltar’s voice over the private communication channel shook Wattson from her concentration. Shortly after they had boarded the dropship, her mind began to wander, and she watched as the landscape zipped past the slats in the bay doors.  


“Understood.” Bloodhound affirmed. They then turned to Wattson, asking, “Are you prepared, _félagi?_ ” Wattson nodded eagerly and smiled, though Bloodhound could still see the nervousness in her expression.  


“Charged and ready!” Wattson chimed, sliding her interceptor coil out from under the seat, and hoisting it onto her back. As she fastened the last strap holding the giant brass pylons to her shoulders, she looked back to Bloodhound, who had now taken to kneeling next to the bay door. Artur, perched atop an empty cargo crate in the corner, briefly flicked his gaze to Wattson, before hopping down to perch on their left shoulder. Slowly, Wattson stepped away from her seat, toward the cargo door. She took hold of one of the grab handles suspended from the ceiling just as the ship began to dip down into a valley.  


“Alright everyone, fifteen seconds!” Gibraltar warned. He started the dropship on a vertical descent, and the entire ship went dark, save for the red emergency lights at either side of the cargo hold. As the engines quieted slightly, Natalie realized she could faintly make out Bloodhound’s voice through the din. They murmured just under their breath, but loud enough that she could make out that they were not speaking in a language she knew.  


“Five seconds! Doors opening!” Gibraltar announced. There was a quiet hydraulic whirr as the bay doors lifted out from the side of the dropship, and slid toward the rear. Just as the doors finished opening, Bloodhound stood, and held out their arm for Artur to climb down. The two shared a glance before Artur spread his wings, beating them twice to lift off of Bloodhound’s arm and disappear into the night.  


“Alright, bruddahs, you are clear for drop,” Gibraltar said. His tone was a bit more stern than usual - there was a seriousness in his voice that was far more prevalent than usual.  


“Copy that,” Bloodhound confirmed, before briefly turning to Wattson. She felt a shot of adrenaline race through her as she met their gaze - like she had somehow looked through the goggles and directly into their eyes. Bloodhound nodded in acknowledgement, and she reflexively returned the gesture. Bloodhound stepped to the edge of the cargo hold and pushed off, dropping off into the wind. Wattson followed with hardly a moment between them. Almost as soon as she left the ship, her jump pack sparked to life, whistling loudly as it picked her out of freefall. Wattson squinted and did her best to shield her eyes from the flurry of sand produced by the jet wash. Her landing was a bit unsteady, but she managed to stay upright.  


“Thank you, _vernardi_. We will contact you for our exit,” Bloodhound said, looking up to the dropship.  


“Copy that. Happy hunting, bruddahs!” Gibraltar replied, quickly pointing the dropship skyward and lifting back off into the night. The sound of the ship’s engines faded quickly, and as the squalls of dust and sand subsided, Wattson uncovered her eyes. Immediately, she recognized the territory. She stood in this exact spot, on the edge of the Marketplace rooftop, hardly a day ago. Yet, Kings Canyon looked almost alien to her now. Under Solace’s looming moon, the sands across the Western portion of the island turned silver, and the air became unusually cool. This new visage Kings Canyon took on stirred a peculiar sensation in her - equal parts eagerness and anxiety. Her eyes traveled across the edges of the island, but got snagged on the scaffolding and searchlights that had been erected in the place of Skulltown. Seeing the cranes and cables in place of a Leviathan’s monolithic backbone caused Wattson’s stomach to tug with grief. Despite the fact that it had been a handful of months, the bitterness from Loba’s cavalier destruction of such an iconic portion of Kings Canyon still remained fresh on many Legend’s tongues. She attempted to yank her gaze away, and it landed back on Bloodhound, the glow from the floodlights reflected in their goggles. For a moment, she pondered their expression behind those eyepieces. Was it also one of grief? Did they feel the same bitterness toward Loba that the other Legends did? She knew that they weren’t native to Solace, but did they still feel the same, as a Legend, and as someone so attuned to nature and the ebb and flow of the natural world? As she pondered this, Bloodhound drew in a slow breath, taking a moment to savor how cool and effortless the air flowed through their respirator and into their chest. They turned to face her and gave a slight nod.  


“The hunt begins,” Bloodhound declared.


	3. Chapter 3

“Maybe we should look over here?” Wattson offered, gesturing to the entrance of the cave system connecting the excavation site to the remains of the Twin Bridges. “It certainly would be nice if we found it in the first few minutes.” She giggled softly.  


“Indeed, it would be pleasant. Though, there is much honor in the challenge of a hunt.” Bloodhound returned. As they stepped into the mouth of the cave, their brow furrowed. The mouth of the cave depicted an almost incomprehensible scene - bullet casings littered the ground, half-sifted into the dirt, and many of the cave walls were either riddled with bullet holes, or seemed to suffer a specific kind of burn. When they stepped a bit closer to a deformed stalagmite, they recognized the damage almost immediately - a very specific, aggressive acidic corrosion.  


“A valiant effort was waged here...” Bloodhound grimaced. Though it had been many respawns since their first encounter with this substance, their teeth still ground at the thought of its presence.  


“We set up quite a few traps set up here,” Wattson said, gently guiding a clump of wide-leaf palms apart to peer around their base. Bloodhound pushed forward, only to happen upon one such trap. It had been ripped through, and expelled its contents with explosive force. The entire area around the barrel itself suffered the same aggressive chemical burns, as did the outer surface of the barrel itself. Wattson continued, with an exaggerated gravelly tone in her voice, “Fortifying this position will destroy any chance of an ambush by escaping squads.”  


“You fought alongside the doctor this day?” Bloodhound surmised, tracing what they could of the tracks in the damp soil.  


“Yes, I did. We did quite well, all things considered.” Bloodhound’s brow furrowed further as the final moments of the previous season’s finale match flashed through their mind. They and their squad had their backs pinned to a minuscule Ring slowly constricting on the hovels and shanties of Slum Lakes for several minutes, but the Ring almost seemed favorable to what was to come. Ambushed from impossible heights, their comrades incapacitated, their skin wracked with pins and needles, lungs searing in their chest as the foul, corrupted breath of the good Doctor’s traps ate away at them. Hacking up hot cinders in their respirator, they barely realized they had completely emptied their weapon and were still clutching its trigger as Nox stumbled, his back and side riddled with bullet wounds. Immediately, his crimson glow began to fade. The announcer, however, remained conspicuously silent as Caustic collapsed face-first into a shallow, marshy pool, both he and the water slowly turning a murky shade of maroon. Bloodhound, drawing jagged, growling breaths, started making their way to aid their remaining squadmate. The gas seemed to consume everything in and around it - including them. Even as their respirator faltered and their nostrils stung, though, they could make out a musty copper stench as they stepped over Caustic’s body. No matter where Bloodhound turned, there was just more of the vile grey-green mist, taking great care to squeeze the life out of them as agonizingly as possible. The fire in their chest grew as the pain endured. Then appeared the proverbial rabbit before the wolf - a bleary streak of red in the corner of their vision, stood over their _félagi,_ apparently unaware he was visible through the sickly fog. The carbine dropped from their hand, replaced with a burst of bright red arcs writhing from their palm. Their breath burned inside their respirator. Their outstretched hand instinctively clutched around Raven’s Bite, the same furious red energy now arcing up the handle across the blade. In one explosive movement, they took up the axe, reared their arm, and hurled _Hrafnsbíta_ through the gas. For a split second, even through the withering burn clinging to their body, they felt the shock of Octane’s frenzied eyes just glancing theirs - right before Raven’s Bite cleaved into his shoulder, and he crumpled silently into the muck. They were barely able to stay upright as camera drones swooped in for shots of the tattered, embattled Champion, once they staggered clear of the fog. It took weeks for them to fully heal their burns. There were no prayers uttered for those _slátrað_ then, nor any time after. They knew all too well that they would have received similar treatment from the good doctor she was so fond of.  


Wattson quietly held a tiny bit of hope that their scavenger hunt would be over right here. The moonlight pouring into the mouth of the cave should’ve delivered something to her - even just the tiniest glimmer in the gap between two leaves would have sufficed. But, to her, the cave delivered nothing but its scarred walls and mucky floor, and the growing stinky musk of saltwater lazily snaking through the valley before her. The Cage lorded over the landscape, a malformed steel monolith standing atop a hill across the valley as if it had been driven up through the earth by an angry god. The hulking craters left by the Leviathans only added to its uncanniness. To the west, Bunker Pass stood sentry, an unyielding brutalist blockade. To her east laid the Repulsor Tower, mangled and wilted against the rocky buttes. _‘Such beautiful handiwork, Crypto.’_ She thought, a pang of red-hot grief churning through her stomach. Such a wantonly destructive man he’d turned out to be. She had to try not to address him by name in her head. He didn’t deserve that intimacy, not anymore. Not after destroying part of her home, and especially not after feeding information about their missions to Revenant. Doctor Caustic had proven he was nothing but a danger to everyone he was near. She was no longer at risk of being distracted or harmed by him. It was none of her concern anymore. Try as she might, though, it was not so simple to discard someone she had come to trust as reflexively as she had Hyeon Kim. All the Legends knew he was bright, but few saw the true depth of his knowledge, or the enthusiasm he held for his interests. Once he had brought down his walls some, over the course of simply coexisting and sometimes working with her, he had shown himself to be surprisingly personable, and even warm, in his own way. Which only made it all the more bitter that it had all apparently been nothing but a facade. Doctor Caustic treated it with such a cold, unwavering nonchalance. Like he had seen it all coming, and it couldn’t have possibly fazed him. It made her feel immature - almost foolish, hearing him speak of it. She only wished she could so easily shrug off who or what had wronged her. She let out a wounded sigh and turned to see Bloodhound approaching, brushing a bit of dirt from their gloves. Moonlight glinted off their goggles as she made a concerted effort to meet their eyes.  


“Did you find your prize, _félagi?_ ” They inquired. Wattson shook her head.  


“No, I couldn’t find it.” She responded, “Not here, anyway.” Though she made an effort to sound optimistic, she could tell Bloodhound picked up on the frustrated dejection in her voice. They took a step closer to her and nodded, keeping their gaze on her.  


“Then let us continue. It may yet lie ahead,” They said, gesturing to the landscape before them with a sweep of their hand. “Lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao remember when I thought I was gonna publish this part by the end of last month? my brain has been moving at a glacial pace working on this but here's more anyway  
> I'm really proud of how the second part of this chapter came out though  
> also I guess I'm kinda unintentionally establishing a time stamp from like, late in season 5 here that I may or may not adhere to? we'll see


End file.
